Grace Exchange
by Truthful nomad
Summary: Hannah, desperate to save Castiel from death, sacrifices her own grace to him, leaving herself weakened and vulnerable to the many dangers on Earth. Castiel tries to keep her safe but they both get a taste of how dangerous Earth and Humans can be for a graceless angel.
1. Chapter 1

Castiel slumped against a tree, his body finally giving out on him. As he sat, propped up, staring at the dimming light from his car's tail light, he hear Hannah get out of the car. He winced, trying to muster up the strength to try to appear stronger than he was, knowing he couldn't hide it from her anymore.

She was by his side in an instant, kneeling beside him, her blue eyes darkened with worry. "The car ran out of gas," he explained, stammering breathlessly, as he gave her a thin smile. "We need more."

"You've run out of gas," she pointed out, and Castiel had to smile again at her attempt at soft humor, even though her expression was serious.

"You have to go," he told her, slumping further against the tree as he felt his strength failing him. "The town isn't far. You can probably find another vehicle. Get to Dean, find the rogues."

"I can't," she protested, arching a brow in fear. She gazed around the dark woods they'd found themselves stranded in. "I don't know anything about this world. You can't die, Castiel…"

Castiel felt sad, gazing at her apologetically at her plea. She was pleading with him not to die. "I've accepted my fate," he told her sadly, his eyes gazing up to meet hers. "Perhaps… it's fitting for all the suffering I've caused."

She frowned at that. "You think you deserve this?" her tone was accusing, almost hostile. But her expression softened immediately. He watched as she turned to glance at the road behind them, the dark asphalt dimly lit by the dying glow of the car's headlights as the last of the gas finally shut the whole thing off. Castiel watched as the world around them went dark. The car had finally given out, just as he, the last of his borrowed grace failing, was about to do.

"Hannah," his stammering voice turned her attention back to him, her face now only illuminated by the moonlight above. "I know you have what it takes to continue on," he told her. "You can be the leader I never was."

She studied him for a moment, saying nothing, a long pause passing in which nothing could be heard other than the crickets, the owls, and Castiel's labored breathing. "No," she said simply. He raised a brow at the defiance in her voice.

"What do you mean no?" he blinked slowly. "I don't have long left, Hannah, you have to promise me."

"You've taught me about choices," she told him. "So now I'm making one." As he watched, frowning in confusion, she pulled the angel blade from her pocket.

"What are you doing?" he asked in confusion as she held the blade up, staring at the sleek metal.

"You need more grace," she replied. "You've made it clear that you won't take it from another angel or seek Metatron out for it, so I am acting for you."

Suddenly, it dawned on Castiel what Hannah was planning to do. He sucked in a breath, trying desperately to hoist his body up, reaching out for her, but she jerked away and put the blade to her own throat.

"Hannah!" Castiel pleaded, his arms outstretched to her. "Don't! Let me-" too late. She sliced deep into her skin, letting out a gasp as blood erupted from the wound and the blue glow of grace appeared. She dropped the blade and turned to him, determination in her eyes.

"No," he resisted when she pulled him away from the tree by the collar of his shirt and yanked him forward. He struggled to pull away, but his feeble attempts were no match for her grip on him.

"I want to do this," she gasped, breath hitched as blood trickled down her neck. She lowered herself so that they were eye level then, forcefully pushed him against her. "Take it," she insisted as a whisp of grace slithered out of her neck towards him. He tried once again to pull away as it got closer, but she pulled him back to her and he was compelled in inhale.

Castiel immediately began to feel the strength renewed as he inhaled the grace deeply. Once the angelic power began to course through him, he felt compelled to inhale again, hungrily lapping up more and more of Hannah's grace. He closed his eyes as he felt the immense relief within his body that the grace provided. He faded out of his mind for a split second, savoring it.

But as he came back to his mind, his eyes snapped open as he pulled away from her. Quickly, and now with renewed power, he placed a hand over her throat and healed the wound.

Hannah gasped, falling forward. Castiel caught her against him. Her body shivered against his as he held her, desperately surging through the emotions. He gripped her shoulders and pulled her off of him if only to look her in the eyes.

"Why!" he demanded. She gasped, her own body weakened now, her eyes barely slits as she wavered in his grip.

"I… couldn't watch you die," she gasped, her body swaying, Castiel supporting her by the shoulders. "You are needed more than I am."

Castiel shook his head, "no," he said, he thought nothing could be further from the truth. No angel or human truly needed him, after all, what had he done but cause destruction and death to them. He was well aware most angels wanted him dead, they blamed him for the fall, but not more than he blamed himself. The truth was, perhaps he hadn't been focused very hard on helping himself because he didn't want to be helped. Because the only way he could see to make up for his mistakes was with his own life. But now…

He looked Hannah over. She was weak, but as she quivered in his arms, he could still see, with the power of his angelic senses, that there was still a very faint hint of grace within her, if only a teardrop's worth.

"I didn't take it all," he announced, taking only a small comfort in the fact that he hadn't left her completely deprived. He felt sick to his stomach as he dwelled on what he'd just done. The one thing he swore never to do again, to take another angel's grace just so he could live, he'd done it again. It didn't matter to him that she'd given her consent, that she'd all but forced it on him, he should have tried harder to resist. Now, their roles were reversed. She was the one whose strength waned.

He left her fall against him again, her head resting against his chest as he tried to think of what to do. "You need rest and you can make more," he said aloud to her and to himself. She'd be okay, he'd make sure of that.

"We don't have time for me to recover," she insisted. "We have a mission, as you have said. You should leave me."

Castiel realized that what he was about to do might label him a hypocrite in her eyes. He'd insisted over and over that their mission, the road they were on, took precedence over his needs, yet here he was, ready to drop everything to save her. But how could he not? How could he just leave her to die after what she'd just done for him. He felt moved beyond words by her action, yet he couldn't help but feel that here was another angel that he'd caused harm to.

"I don't care about the mission right now," he told her as he moved to get to his feet, pulling her up with him. "Without your grace, you are vulnerable to the dangers of this world, and you will be extremely weakened until you have a chance to recover it. I'm not going to leave you at the mercy of these humans."

But as she leaned against him, he turned towards the car and frowned. The nearest town was a few miles away and they were out of gas. There had been no other cars on this road since they had pulled over. It was desolate. What were his options? Neither one of them could fly. He could carry her into town, but then he'd still have to leave her to go back and get the car. He had one other option and he didn't like it.

"I have to go get gas for the car," he told her hesitantly. She looked up at him, blearily blinking lethargically at him. "Can you walk?"

She tried. Trying to push past him to take a step, but immediately collapsed, Castiel moving quick to catch her. She shivered as the wind blew at them furiously. Castiel winced. With such diminished grace, Hannah was closer to being human than she had been before, just as Castiel had been when Metatron had taken his grace. She'd be tired, hungry, vulnerable to the elements, to sicknesses, to violence. And the sudden extraction of so much of her grace had already made her extremely weak. The world was a very dangerous place for a graceless angel.

But Castiel had no choice. They'd be going nowhere without a car. He held her up, let her lean against him, helped her walk, until they managed to get to the car. He helped her into the back seat to lay down. He noticed her shiver and quickly removed his trenchcoat, draping it over her. He kneeled down in the opened door to be at eye level with her. "I'm going to walk to town," he said. "I'll bring back some gas and then we'll go find a motel."

"And then what?" she lifted her head, blinking.

"And then I'll take care of you," he promised. "Until your grace replenished. And then you have to promise me not to do that again."

She frowned and said nothing, laying her head back down on the seat. Castiel hesitated when he didn't get acknowledgment. "Hannah."

"I can't promise that, Castiel," she said, burying her face into the seat, and thus ending the conversation. Castiel stared at her dark brown hair, pursing his lips in frustration. He didn't even know how to argue with her. It was unfathomable to him that she would be willing to sacrifice herself for him like this, he didn't understand why she thought he deserved it. But he felt grateful, and closer to her than before. As he stared at her silent form, noticing she was already starting to drift to sleep, he felt a need to protect her.

"I'll be back as soon as I can," he promised, reaching out to brush the top of her head with his fingers, unsure of why he felt compelled to make such a gesture.

With that, he stood up and closed the door, turning, he broke into a run, heading towards town as fast as he could.


	2. Chapter 2

Castiel had had some time to stew over what had happened. When he walked to town, and back, he felt himself growing angrier the more he thought about it. Why did Hannah do this to herself? Why was it so important to her that he live? He was quite willing to die, he had accepted his fate, after all, he had done so many terrible things. He'd done the unthinkable stealing another angel's grace before and now it was killing him, and he deserved it. And now, Hannah had forced him to do it again. To her. To someone he'd grown to trust, respect, maybe even… he shook his head. No, it was nothing more, he thought.

He felt humbled, in awe by what she did for him. He felt grateful, but he couldn't explore that feeling right now. The other emotions were overwhelming him more. Anger, frustration, guilt. All of these feelings were so intense, yet he didn't understand why.

When he had retrieved the gas and returned to the car, he found her still asleep in the back seat of his car. He opened the back door, and she nearly fell out of it, having been leaning her head against the door when he opened it. The sudden movement jerked her awake, and she sat up, blinking blearily at him.

"I was just making sure you were okay," he said, curtly as he turned his attention to the car. He filled the tank with gas and threw the empty container into the trunk, and as he did that, Hannah silently got out of the car to face him.

"We're ready to go," he said, not looking into her face as he brushed past her and headed for the driver's seat. "You can continue to rest if you wish."

He was aware that he was abrasive with her, and he knew she'd picked up on it, but he didn't care at the moment. He got into the driver's seat and waited for her to walk around and get into the passenger's seat. When she was safely inside, he drove off without a word.

The silence that passed between them was uncomfortable. He stole a few glances at her and caught her staring right at him, the whites of her eyes reflecting in the darkness. But each time, she'd look away quickly, suddenly finding the scenery passing out her window far more fascinating.

Finally, he couldn't take it anymore. "I wish you hadn't done what you did," he said as he focused his eyes on the road. "I accepted my fate and you should have respected my wishes."

There was a pause, and Castiel glanced at her to see if she had been paying attention to him. She was, but she hung her head at his gaze and focused on her hands. "I had to do something," she said softly. Then she looked at him again. "Castiel, I don't understand what I am supposed to learn by your death."

"Consequences," he replied sharply. "Not long ago you were willing to walk out on me for what I did, and you were right to do it. What I did was abhorrent. Taking another angel's grace, it's unfathomable and I feel disgusted that I could be brought so low. And now I've done it again."

"I was willing," she insisted. She winced, turning away as if in pain, but took in a breath and continued. "I know what I did before," she said.

"It doesn't matter that you were willing," he replied as he drove, disregarding her apparent struggle with words.

"I couldn't take it anymore, Castiel!" her sudden outburst, the emotion in her voice startled him. They had just arrived in town and Castiel glanced at her even as he was forced to pay attention to the road. "Watching you grow ill, and then you expect me to watch you die. If that's what you really want then why did you drag me along with you?"

Castiel pondered that and said nothing in response. He drove on and finally parked in a motel parking lot. Their surroundings were a little sketchy; there were condemned buildings all around the motel and garbage littered the streets. Neither angels really took note.

Castiel continued to let the anger inside of him fester. He clenched his jaw, trying to hold back the rage inside him. He wasn't used to this kind of intense emotion; he was having trouble containing it. And it bothered him that it was all directed at her. And he didn't really understand why. Why was he so angry at her? He turned off the car and turned in his seat to face her.

"I never asked you to get involved," he said, his tone biting. "You came to me for help with the rogues. Why do you care so much about it? Most in heaven would welcome my death."

"And why won't you face it?" she shot back with equal fervor. "You say you've found things down here on this planet. Things like love, hope, friendship. These human things. You speak so highly of these humans, your friendship with the Winchesters, what does it all mean, Castiel?"

The frustration was evident in her face. Her face flushed red and she heaved like she was gasping for breath. Castiel noted the weak, lethargic posture she held, slightly slumped against the seat, running on pure emotion. Even if he was angry with her, the lethargic demeanor worried him. He was worried about her and that made him more furious. Irrationally angry. She was making him go back on his own words.

"I have to get a room," he spat out, forcing her to change the subject, abruptly. With that, he got out of the car and slammed the door with a force that he hoped made a point. He stormed to the reception office and made quick work of paying for the motel and taking the keys. He gasped, his breath coming out in white clouds as the temperature around them was chilly and cold. Ice had formed in the night, but the heat of his emotions had kept him warm.

Castiel had seen these emotions at work. He'd seen Dean take them out of Sam. He'd seen Sam take them out on Dean. He'd seen the power with which both brothers wielded their own words. He'd never considered words so damaging until now. He was an angel, after all, he was above such petty things like emotions, yet over the years, they'd crept slowly into his being, like insidious parasites. Perhaps it was being on Earth that caused them, perhaps not even angels were immune to the power of feelings once they'd opened themselves up to them. He felt powerless.

Hannah had gotten out of the car and was leaning against it when he returned. As he approached her, he winced as he saw how haggard she was beginning to look. She'd been confident, brave, full of life, now she slumped over, her skin pale. While he walked with the power of her grace. But as he felt sick inside at this thought, he began to realize what she had been saying. How she must have felt watching him deteriorate from being someone she admired, someone she considered her leader, her teacher, to an angel who was slowly fading away before her eyes. That familiar guilt feeling that Castiel had become accustomed to by now began to worm its way into him once more.

"I got a room," he told her, deliberately brushing past her towards their assigned room. He heard her push off the car and silently follow him. He opened the door and held it opened for her as she sludged past him into the room. He watched as she lowered herself onto one of the beds, letting out a breath.

Castiel shut the door hard. They were alone again. He moved into the room and flicked on the light then turned to face her, frowning as she shivered slightly, crouching in on herself.

"You should get some rest," he suggested. "You'll need it to regain your grace. And food."

She glanced up at him with a frown. "I don't know what hunger is," she said. "And eating… I've never done it before. It's disgusting."

"Well now you must," he said with an irritated sigh. "You must do a lot of things. Human things. You are closer to being human now than to being an angel." He worried at how true that statement was. He remembered how he struggled after Metatron took his grace. The first time he felt hunger, how it had reduced him to destitution, how he'd been utterly helpless at the mercy of this cruel world.

"When my grace returns, yours will wane," she pointed out. Castiel sighed again.

"Hannah, you don't understand!" his raised voice startled her, and he regretted it, but he couldn't hold back any longer. He wanted to grab her shoulders and shake some sense into her. There was no way he was letting her do this to herself again. But to his surprise, she reacted in kind.

"You don't understand," she shouted back, surging to her feet. "I helped you because…" she swallowed, her eyes softening, brimming with moisture. "Because I care about you. I worried about you. I don't even understand why I feel these things. They aren't angel things but I feel them anyway. They make me sick inside. I tried everything to get you to care, I begged you, I was desperate, Castiel, and I don't even know why. So I made a choice."

"I told you not to let emotions distract you from the mission," Castiel shouted, even louder, purposely brushing off the meaning behind her words. He didn't want to face it. "Getting to Dean, finding the rogues, that is more important than me than you-"

He cut himself off when he saw the look in her eyes. Hurt. He suddenly wished he could take back those words but he couldn't. She winced. "You're right, Castiel," she said, suddenly calm, though she visibly bristled. "The mission is more important than my feelings. Or than me. I don't want to get in your way." With that, she turned and hurried out the door, closing it before Castiel could stop her.

Castiel stared at the door, heaving. What had just happened? He sat at the foot of the bed and contemplated. Hannah was impulsive. It was something that was perhaps a strength and a weakness. It both frustrated and fascinated him. He'd seen it before when she provoked Adina, when she'd gone to Metatron on Castiel's behalf. Hannah had passions that were unique to angels, it was something Castiel felt almost envious of her. She was complex, in a way, she reminded him of who he was six years ago when he first met Sam and Dean. And yet the one thing that had eluded him, in the beginning, seemed to come naturally to her. Like any angel, she didn't understand these feelings, and he could tell that at times, she'd fought against them, clinging desperately to her rigid angel code, but she undoubtedly possessed them.

And thinking of this, Castiel couldn't keep the guilt at bay. Hannah had done something no other angel would ever, in a million years, do for him. Just because she wanted to. Because she cared about his suffering. It was the one thing he'd found admirable about humanity, their capacity to show incredible acts of kindness and friendship, it was a trait that angels lack, but again, Hannah had shown herself to be a different kind of angel. Perhaps this is how angels _should_ be. Hannah was a better angel than him. A better leader than him. With her bravery, her compassion, and the strict code of angelic conduct she'd always lived by, it caused her conflict, perhaps even doubt, but it was as if she'd taken the best traits of humanity and angels and managed to incorporate it within herself.

And Castiel had realized then how truely lucky he was to have met her. He'd only known her for a short time, and although he hadn't thought of it, her friendship was the best thing that came out of the terrible events of the past few months. And now…

Castiel glanced up. The room around him was silent. He realized he'd sat there dwelling on his guilt that the hours had slipped by and it was now after three in the morning. Hannah had been gone a few hours. The wind howled outside, rattling the windows and Castiel clenched his jaw in concern.

Hannah may have begun to embrace her emotions and certain aspects of humanity, but she had seen a tiny part of this planet. And now she was out in it, graceless and vulnerable. He'd never thought to mention this world's dangers to her because he never thought she'd need to know. She was powerful, invincible… at least she was until he took her grace from her.

Castiel swallowed. She should have been back by now. She had intended to come back, didn't she? A thousand scenarios ran through his mind. It was cold outside, she was weak, and these humans… so unpredictable. A sickening feeling of dread settled in the pit of his stomach.

Castiel didn't waste any more time and hurried out the door. He could still make this right somehow. He'd find her and tell her what he needed to tell her, what he should have told her instead of yelling at her, instead of brushing off her feelings, scolded her like an unruly child for the incredible thing she'd done for him. She'd be okay, he told himself… she'd be okay...


	3. Chapter 3

Warning: Torture and mentions of decay and death ahead!

The sun was coming up over the horizon as Castiel combed the streets, desperately calling Hannah's name. He'd been searching all night. How could she have gotten so far away? He stopped everyone who passed him and most shrugged him off.

"Your girl shouldn't be wandering the streets at night," one man said. Castiel frowned at that. Hannah should be able to defend herself against humans, but her grace, her only weapon, was coursing through him at the moment.

"What do you mean?" Castiel asked, looking into the short man's face, trying to keep his composure.

"Haven't you been watching the news?" the man responded as if Castiel should know. He shook his head.

"I'm not from around here," he explained. "Just, have you seen her? She's tall with dark hair, blue eyes. She's been ill; I need to find her." Of course, he could tell the man the truth.

"Oh gee that's descriptive," the man said sarcastically. "Look there is some serial killer on the loose around here. He's a real sicko, likes to torture women before he murders them. He's killed at least three so far."

Castiel swallowed the concern at hearing that. He watched the man walk away and stood there for a moment, scanning the world around him. It was cold, overcast; the wind blew leaves and pieces of garbage past him. Cars roamed up and down the street and people in work clothes when about their business. No sign of Hannah.

The angel with who once had trouble feeling anything could feel nothing but fear, dread, and panic. Without thinking, he pulled out his phone and dialed. He waited.

"Hey, Cas," Sam's tense voice reminded him that he had neglected his friends, having been so worried about Hannah.

"Sam," Castiel couldn't keep the fear out of his voice as he leaned against a brick building, gazing up at the sky. "I… I'm sorry I haven't been able to make it, I've run into some trouble here. How is Dean?"

"He's alright," Sam responded. The tall Winchester sounded exhausted. "He's resting. The treatment worked, he's okay."

"And the mark?" Castiel felt relief beyond words that Dean was on the mend, but guilt washed through him as he thought about how he should have been there helping.

"Still there," Sam said with a sigh. "Hey Cas, what's going on? You sound distracted."

"I can't find Hannah!" Castiel blurted out frantically. "I've looked everywhere, Sam."

There was a pause from the other end. Castiel heard a shuffle and then Dean's voice, "Hey Cas," he said wearily.

"Dean…" hearing Dean's voice calmed Castiel a little. He felt relief beyond belief to hear Dean was alright for himself. "I'm so sorry I haven't been able to get to you."

"Hey man don't worry about it," Dean replied. "What's going on with Hannah?"

"We had a disagreement," Castiel explained. He wasn't sure if he should tell them about the stolen grace, he couldn't face voicing his guilt over the matter. "She left, and now I can't find her. Someone said there's a serial killer over here, Dean, what if he has her?"

There was a pause on the other line. "Cas, she's an angel," Dean pointed out, confusion evident in his voice. Castiel swallowed.

"She… she has no grace," he admitted. Another pause. Castiel wondered if they were picking up on the hidden meaning in his voice. He felt sick inside.

"Hey Cas where are you?" Sam's voice made Castiel realize he was on speakerphone and both boys were listening to him.

"In Nebraska, I think," Castiel squeezed his eyes shut, trying to clear his mind. He tried to remember where they were. They had been on their way to the bunker when the car had run out of gas. They had ended up outside this moderately sized town. "A few hours from you."

"Okay turn on your phone tracker, we'll be right there," Castiel let out a long sigh when he heard Dean say that.

"Dean, you should recover," he protested. That they were willing to drop everything to rush out and help him made him feel guilty. He didn't deserve their devotion. "You don't owe me anything."

"Shove it, Cas, we're coming," Dean insisted firmly. "Just hang tight." With that, the Winchesters hung up. Castiel turned his attention back to his search. He felt sick inside, Hannah may be hurt because of what she did for him, and now Sam and Dean were rushing out to help him, and all he could think about was why they all thought he was worth it.

A thin ray of sunlight shined in Hannah's eyes as she woke up. She groaned when she opened her eyes; a weak, nauseous feeling rolled over her. The same weak, nauseous feeling that had settled into her body the moment she'd given up her grace. She tried to move… but couldn't. She looked around. She was laying on some kind of wooden table, her arms and legs were chained up. She shivered in the cold, stale air and realized she was wearing less. Her grey blazer and blue shirt had been cut off, her button-down shirt had been torn at the sleeves and opened, exposing her torso, upper body, arms, and shoulders. Her jeans pant legs had been torn off up to her thighs. She felt exposed, and she didn't understand. She felt confused by her situation.

She gazed around at her surroundings. She was in some kind of empty warehouse; a few barrels lay piled in the far corner and cracks in the windows and roof let the sunshine in but only in small amounts. Much of the building was shrouded in darkness. WHich is why Hannah didn't hear anyone approach. She suddenly felt a sliver of cold metal press against her cheek. She tried to jerk away and the blade sliced into her skin quickly, swiftly. She let out a startled yelp.

"You're awake," came a deep voice. A man stepped out of the shadows. He was tall, bulky, and bald, his shiny head reflecting against the sun. He held the knife, now glistening with her blood. As she glanced at the knife she recognized it as her own angel blade.

"What do you want?" she demanded, trying to scoot away as he gripped her by the chin, forcibly moving her head to face him. She glared at him dangerously.

"What all men want," the man said simply. And as he kept physical contact on her she concentrated, attempting to smite him with her powers- only to discover they had no effect. Just a small shock, which only elicited a cock of his head.

"What was that, Missy?" he wondered. His voice was chilling. Hannah was afraid now. Her powers were gone, she was defenseless and this man… his eyes… they were haunting. She began to shake in spite of herself.

"Please," she pleaded. "I'm an angel." The man only burst out laughing. Then he lashed out and sliced her again, drawing the blade along the side of her temple. She gasped at the white-hot pain.

"I'm sure someone must have told you that to make you feel good about yourself," the man said. "But women like you make me sick. I'd bet you'd never give men like me a chance. It's okay; I know how to treat girls like you."

"Please don't," she shook, both in fear and in the cold. She watched him pull over a metal tray full of disturbing objects.

"They don't usually come to me armed," the man said, admiring the angel blade. "We can have some fun with this thing." Hannah swallowed. They? That was when she caught the smell of putrid flesh. She craned her head and saw… a sight that made her gasp and whimper in fear.

There were at least two women. One tied to a chair, the other chained to a wall, both completely nude and covered in blood. Their skin hung in ribbons. They were long dead, and their bodies were rotting. Hannah turned back to the man who was grinning knowingly.

"Feel free to scream as much as you need to," he told her. "We're in the middle of the prairie. My own little humble abode. And we have all the time in the world, baby."

And with that, he lashed out, shoving the blade deep into her bare shoulder. She screamed as blood rushed out, covering her arm and shoulder, dripping down her body. The man yanked the blade back out roughly… and as the morning wore on, Hannah's screams echoed across the prairie.


	4. Chapter 4

The day turned into evening before Castiel heard the familiar sound of the Impala's engine in the motel parking lot. He'd searched all day and had finally returned to the motel, hoping that somehow, Hannah might make it back there somehow. He didn't want to believe she was in trouble; he tried to consider other possibilities. Maybe she'd decided to go back to heaven. Maybe she'd left town and was perfectly fine. He wondered how well she'd get by on Earth and hoped that perhaps her vessel was helping her with necessary skills.

He almost didn't hear the knock on the door or Dean's voice, "Cas, open up!" he heard. He got up and let them in, Dean rushed in first, while Sam, carrying a laptop, followed close behind, closing the door behind him.

"Anything?" Dean asked as he looked the angel over. Castiel lowered himself onto the edge of the bed, looking at his hands.

"I've been checking local sources about this serial killer," Sam said as he sat down at the table while Dean moved to lean against the TV, focusing on the distraught angel. "He's a sick one. He's got some sort of vendetta against women. According to what I dug up on him, his mother abandoned him to an abusive aunt, and he's had a history of violence towards women. He was accused of sexual assault twice in high school, and at least two women in his life have restraining orders against him. But… he doesn't sound supernatural at all, just your typical monster of the human variety."

Castiel winced hard. They still had no proof that this man was involved in Hannah's disappearance at all, but he felt something, he knew she was in trouble. He didn't even know how he'd manage to acquire this instinct, but he felt sure he would know it if she was safe. And he told Sam and Dean as much.

"I don't know where this instinct is coming from," he said. "I've never been so sure of it before. I know he has her."

"Yeah I know the feeling," Dean said, glancing at Sam. "When you care about someone, you can sense when they are in trouble."

"I owe her," Castiel explained, looking at Dean. "She… she gave me her grace." He wasn't sure he wanted to tell Sam and Dean what had really happened, but he needed to tell someone, and he knew he could trust them.

"What do you mean?" Sam asked as he glanced over from the table. "You said she didn't have any grace."

"I… I was dying," Castiel explained. He told them everything. About their road trip together to hunt rogue angels, about how Hannah had been upset by Castiel's impending death, how she had cut her own throat, how he tried to resist. Sam and Dean were quiet for awhile, exchanging looks. Castiel swallowed, waiting for the judgment he felt he deserved.

"I feel sick inside," he said. "I swore I'd never do this to another angel. It's abhorrent; it's a violation of the worst kind."

Dean exhaled heavily, "Cas…" he murmured. "I… don't know what to say. I'm not an angel. I'm not going to stand here and contribute to your guilt or try to help you justify it. Right now, let's just focus on getting her back. Sitting there wallowing in guilt won't get her back, you need to focus."

Castiel took in a deep breath and looked at Dean. He was right. Castiel had to believe that, after all, Dean was his guide on how to live on Earth. Even more than his fellow angels, Castiel looked to Dean and Sam on how to behave. And Dean was the king of guilt and self-loathing.

"Okay, so far the police have discovered three bodies," Sam said, opening his laptop. "But there are at least two other women reported missing from the local community. They don't seem to have anything in common except that they disappeared at night. If this was anything else, I might suspect werewolves."

"Well let's work the case like we always do," Dean replied. "Let's head to the morgue and check out the latest victim."

And so they did. Sam and Dean changed into their typical FBI suits and the three of them headed for the morgue. Flashing a few fake badges got them immediate access, and Castiel winced when he saw the sight. The latest victim, a young blonde haired woman lying motionless on the autopsy table, a thin sheet covering her body from the shoulders down. The medical examiner stood over her, tools in hand.

"We're with the FBI," Dean explained when their entrance startled the medical examiner. "I'm Agent Hetfield, and this is Agent Ulrich and Agent Mustaine. What can you tell us?"

Castiel approached the woman and gazed at her broken body. Her face was a sea of bruises and gashes, she was pale, her eyes sunken in. Her arms both hung, one of them had bone protruding through the skin. Castiel could see perhaps hundreds of thin cuts crisscrossing her bare shoulders, and a few more significant puncture wounds on her shoulders. Her lips were blue. A thick slice across her neck, exposing tissue and nerves seemed to be the final blow.

"This is a real sicko we have on our hands," the medical examiner explained. "I don't even know where to begin with this girl. Cause of death is apparent; her trachea is cut. But that seemed to be the most recent injury. This girl has injuries that are a few days old. A lot of thin lacerations that seem minor, but the wounds all contained various substance like acid, salt, and lemon juice. She has multiple broken bones, some muscle tearings, some puncture wounds all over her body. She has traces of phosgene and bleach in her blood."

"Phosgene?" Dean glanced at Sam for an explanation.

"It paralyzes you," Sam explained. "In mild doses, it'll keep you awake… so…" Sam swallowed. He didn't need to elaborate. Castiel realized the purpose for such a gas. So the victim would remain conscious but immobile so they could experience more pain.

"The other victims have similar injuries," the medical examiner explained. "And they all show evidence of rape. This guy… he took his time torturing his victim. And he has some skills; I'd be willing to bet this guy served in the military, possibly a war vet, to have knowledge of this level of… torture."

After that sickening presentation, Castiel could hardly walk. He followed Sam and Dean out into the hallway, and when they turned to him, he collapsed against the wall, bending over, gripping his head in his hands. He felt waves and waves of dizziness, his head pulsated and throbbed. He gasped in a few breaths. The emotions threatened to strangle him.

"Hey, hey," Dean's voice seemed distant, like an echo in Castiel's mind. He felt both Winchesters gripping him on the shoulders, holding him up. He tried to let himself slump to the floor, but the firm grips on his shoulders held him up. As he blinked, his vision blackened, but he saw Dean and Sam sandwiching him between them, both supporting him. Dean patted him on the chin in an attempt to get him to snap out of it.

"Come on Cas," Sam urged. "It's going to be okay." But it wasn't okay. What he had just seen, the thought Hannah could be suffering like this; this human could be hurting her, touching her, it triggered emotions so overwhelming, it was if his body shorted out.

Finally, the gripping feelings began to fade away to be replaced with something else- rage. He stood up on his own, pulling away from Sam and Dean if only to turn and face them. The dangerous look on his face must have been apparent as they both blinked in alarm.

"If this human hurt Hannah like this," he said, his voice low and venomous. "I will make him pay. I'll smite him slowly so that his internal organs boil inside his body, and I want him to feel part of it."

"We'll make sure you get the chance," Dean replied, his voice equally angry as he glanced at Sam, who nodded in agreement. His friends, his brothers, they stood with him all the way. Neither of them hesitated in their declarations. Neither of them even knew Hannah, and it occurred to Castiel that he had only known her a short time himself, but he realized then that even in this short time, she'd made him feel things he'd never experienced before. Intense, overwhelming, powerful emotions that gripped him like a vice grip, almost suffocating him.

"I've never…" he gasped, looking down at the floor, the turbulent emotions simmering just under the surface. He tried to voice it all but couldn't. He wanted to tell them what he was feeling, but he couldn't even begin to put it all into words.

"Yeah, it's okay," Sam said, and they both gripped him again and led him out of the hospital. "We know."

00000

Somewhere, not far from where the Winchesters and Castiel continued their search, Hannah was indeed suffering. She had no idea how long she had been strapped to this table, a plaything for this cruel man.

This human was skilled and incredibly brilliant in his cruelty. The way he'd take his time with each torture method, causing a visceral, primal agony with every touch was something Hannah had never encountered before- and she knew a little about torture. Heaven had its own torturers, and although Hannah had never done anything to warrant being on the receiving end, she had witnessed it. One angel in particular, Ephram, was notorious as heaven's most skilled torturer. It took great skill to cause such agony to a powerful celestial being, but it could certainly be done, even to an angel with full power.

But this man, this human being, would make even Ephram doubt his own abilities. It didn't help Hannah to keep in mind that she wouldn't be in this position if she had her grace, she could have smote this man from across the room. But even in her darkest moments, she couldn't bring herself to regret what she'd done for Castiel. Even if this was to be her end, at least he was still out there, alive.

She couldn't think about that right now. The man circled her table. His beady grey eyes were piercing, haunting as if they could drill into her soul. It had started with him playing with her angel blade, her own weapon. He'd stripped off much of her clothing, just a few scraps of her white blouse remained, and he'd worked his way up and down her skin with the very tip of the blade. He crisscrossed, never going deep enough to cause serious wounds, just small breaks in the skin. Her shoulders, arms, legs, torso, chest, neck, face. But even if each cut was minor, they felt like small charges of electricity.

It wasn't just the physical pain that this torturer utilized. Sometimes, Hannah wasn't aware of when, he had disappeared for a time, and Hannah began to hope he wasn't coming back, but he did. He returned with another victim, a young woman whom he strapped to a chair next to Hannah's table. Hannah watched him strip the shaking quivering girl of most of her clothes, taunting them both as he did it.

"You're both going to taste everything I have in store for you," he taunted, making it a point to touch and caress the young woman's skin, suggestively eyeing Hannah as he did so. The girl screamed, and Hannah flinched, whimpering in terror.

He took turns, equally inflicting damage on each of his victims. Hannah stared at the face of the other woman as she lay there strapped to the table while the girl's shaking caused her chair to rattle.

"Please, please…" the girl begged as the tormenter started in on her with the angel blade. She screamed as he crisscrossed her skin, then made a point to caress her bare skin, running his fingers slowly along the broken flesh.

But the begging only elicited a smug chuckle from their tormentor. He turned to Hannah, touching her skin with his fingers. His fingers on her cold skin, tracing along parts of her body made her cringe, closing her eyes, willing it to all stop. In the deepest part of her mind, Caroline cried out in terror, giving Hannah a double dose of visceral emotion.

Hannah kept her eyes closed, trying to block it all out, but she could hear the girl sobbing beside her. After a pause from the tormentor, Hannah dared to open her eyes to see he was no longer in her field of vision. She quickly glanced at the girl.

"It's going to be okay," she whispered, though she stammered, her voice shaking with fear. She knew the girl didn't believe her, she didn't believe herself, but she had to try.

But before she could say more, the man returned with what looked like some sort of sponge, dripping with clear liquid. "What do you think?" he asked cheerfully, glancing back and forth between both women. "It's a little concoction I made myself. Lemon juice, ghost pepper chilly juice, salt, a little bit of whiskey, and a little bit of battery acid."

And before Hannah could even prepare herself, he assaulted her skin with the painful liquid. She screamed, arching her body up against her restraints, squeezing her eyes shut against the pain. The tiny cuts he'd inflicted on her before made themselves known as he scrubbed her with the drenched sponge, massaging every inch of her skin with it. She screamed, louder and louder, giving into the agony that filled her senses. The pain gripped her mind, she squirmed and writhed on the table, desperately trying to get away from it. Her tormentor only laughed maniacally.


	5. Chapter 5

**Trigger Warning** : There's a sexual assault scene in this chapter and lots of graphic violence and torture.

Hannah felt nauseous and sick inside. It could be from the bleach he had forced down her throat, or from how he'd slowly inserted about a dozen small knives into her body after he had first heated them over fire, or how he'd broken her arm, her leg, and a few ribs.

Her throat burned both from screaming and from the bleach. Her stomach clenched painfully as she fought back waves and waves of nausea. If she had been human, she was sure she wouldn't have lived to this point, the trace amount of angel grace she had left was the only thing giving her the strength to endure.

As night fell around them, Hannah weakly turned her head towards the other victim. The young woman whose name Hannah learned was Heather wasn't holding up very well.

The man had left for a time, she didn't know where he'd gone, but he'd moved Heather onto a table of her own which he'd placed beside Hannah's. The young woman had been both a source of comfort and a source to mental torture for Hannah as she'd taken every chance to talk to her, and watching Heather endure the same things she was had been terrible to watch. This man seemed to have an order, a system for which he did things. He never strayed from that order. Every torture method he performed on Hannah he in turn performed on Heather, often making sure to inflict the same injuries. It seemed almost like an obsession to him.

"Is he gone?" the woman asked weakly as she shook. Hannah shook too. It wasn't just the fear, but they had both been exposed to the cold for far too long, laying there mostly naked while the drafty building they were in did little to chase away the winds outside.

"Yes, for now," Hannah murmured. She whimpered, blinking the tears from her eyes while Heather coughed hard. Heather wasn't doing very well, Hannah knew. She barely had the strength to scream, and she's thrown up at least twice.

"Why is he doing this to us?" Heather murmured as she sobbed softly. Hannah had no answer. This was a side to humans she had never expected. That they could be capable of such cruelty. This man wasn't possessed by a demon or turned by a vampire; he was just a man. Castiel always thought too highly of humans, but if one could do this to someone he never even met, then how could she trust any others? She decided then that she could never trust humans the same way again. If she survived this, she'd never let her guard down.

"I wish I could help you," Hannah murmured, glancing at Heather. "I wish I could help myself. If I was stronger if I had my power…"

"What power?" Heather looked at her quizzically. "What can you magically get us out of here somehow?"

Hannah knew enough not to give her true identity to too many humans, but as she glanced across the space between them, she looked on with sympathy. It was likely they were both going to die, and Hannah hoped that knowing the truth might give Heather some comfort.

"I'm an angel," Hannah whispered, whimpering in pain and misery.

"Yeah right," Heather retorted. "There's no such thing. And I thought you things were supposed to protect us."

Hannah winced at the irony of that. She should have been able to protect this young woman. Hannah should have been the soldier she had always been. Brave, strong, triumphant in the face of danger. She'd been in heavenly wars. She'd earned a place of leadership by Castiel's side against Metatron. Other angels respected her. And now what was sh reduced to? This man had hurt her and broken her. Yes, broken. She was broken. She'd never be whole again.

"I am powerless…" Hannah muttered in defeat, squeezing her eyes shut, a single tear trickling down the side of her face.

She stayed that way, her eyes closed until she heard footsteps. Their torturer was back. Dread washed over her as she opened her eyes, seeing the man standing in the space between their two tables.

"I guess your cop friends are quicker than I had hoped," the man said. "I'm going to have to move this show along."

Hannah wasn't sure what he meant by that, but he glanced between the two women as if trying to make a decision. Deciding which one would be his next target. His eyes finally settled on Heather, and he grinned seductively. She shook.

"Please," she begged. "Please don't…" somehow it seemed like Heather knew she was in store for something far worse than what she had already been through. She glanced at Hannah, eyes wide in fear. "Please help me!" she begged. "If you're really an angel then prove it! Help! Please!" She continued to beg, and it broke Hannah even more. She struggled in her chains with all the strength she had, to no avail.

The man circled Heather and… using no weapons, no torture devices other than his own body, he began his cruel finale. Touching her, his hands lingering on her skin, traveling up and down the length of her body. He glanced towards Hannah, winking at her seductively. "Watch closely," he said. "It'll be your turn soon enough."

And then he violated Heather. She screamed and struggled, tears running down her cheeks as he climbed onto the table and removed just enough of his clothes to do his deed. Hannah was forced to watch every torturous moment, petrified. She whimpered and sobbed as she watched him rape this girl. Heather was powerless to do much but struggle helplessly under him.

When it had finally ended, the torturer left the violated, broken girl naked and strapped to the table, and then, disappearing only for a moment from Hannah's field of vision, he reappeared, brandishing a large machete. With one fell swoop, he sliced deep into Heather's throat. Blood spurted like a fountain and quickly covered the girl as she gagged, gasped, then…. Was still.

Silence descended upon the building as the Torturer watched in sick satisfaction, the girl he had just killed. He threw the knife to the ground with a clank then glanced at Hannah. "You're next," he warned before stalking away from Hannah's line of sight.

Hannah gasped and stared at the broken body in front of her. She couldn't grasp what she had just witnessed. As if this man had brought enough suffering upon this girl, he had to violate her too? Hannah choked out a soft sob as she thought about how he planned to do the same to her. He was going to touch her, violate her, use her body, her vessel's body as if it was his.

The hours passed away in the darkness. The silence was terrifying. She couldn't tell if the man was still in the room or if she was alone, but she couldn't still her rapidly beating heart. She shook, cold and terrified, waiting.

When she heard the footsteps again, she broke into sobs. "Please," she gasped as the man approached her table, haunting eyes fixed on her. But he ignored her pleas and started touching her, just as he had done to Heather.

Touching her body, her skin, softly at first but as his fingers roamed over sensitive areas already wounded or hurt by earlier injuries, she let out a cry of pain and tried to struggle, and it only seemed to encourage him. He maneuvered himself onto the table with her, his weight against hers. Hannah screamed and fought frantically, and as the man was about to force his way with her, all of a sudden, two hands grabbed him on both sides of his head and all of a sudden, he was off of her, crashing loudly onto the floor. In his place, Castiel stood there, heaving, his eyes glowing blue with turbulent angelic power.

0000

Castiel let the rage flow through him as he turned to face the man he'd just thrown off of Hannah. He heaved in and out, sauntering forward like a fierce bull preparing to charge. He watched the man scramble against the wall, staring at him, eyes wide with fear.

Castiel gathered his full power and the world suddenly flashed, his wings projecting against the wall, his eyes glowing blue, bolts of electricity dancing around his aura.

"You're an angel!" the man gasped, realization dawning on him as he glanced back towards Hannah as the Winchesters both moved to help her out of her chains. "I thought she was lying!"

"And you dare to touch her?" Castiel growled dangerously, fury coursing through him like venom. "You will regret ever laying eyes on her."

"Please!" the man begged, shaking in fear as Castiel approached. The man flattened himself against the wall as if that might somehow save him from the angel's wrath. It only made the angel angrier.

"I'm sure your victims begged for mercy," he pointed out. He had heard Hannah screaming, begging, her cries were what drew him to the building. That this man had the audacity to beg for his life now when the room was littered with the bodies of innocence that he killed, it infuriated Castiel.

Castiel watched in some satisfaction the way the man huddled against the wall. "Fear," he murmured. "It's the last emotion you will ever feel."

Castiel placed his hand on the man's forehead and, carefully controlling his power; he watched as the man's blood began to boil from the outside. Slowly at first, then the man let out a shriek in pain as the angelic power spread through his body. He convulsed, his eyes rolling up inside his head as white angelic energy shot out of his ears and mouth. In a final act of vengeance, Castiel watched in satisfaction as the man's eyeballs burst, and then, his head itself burst, spraying blood and brain tissue everywhere. The body dropped at Castiel's feet, and the angel just stood there, panting.

"Cas!" Dean's voice snapped him out of it. Castiel turned, and the anger melted away, to be replaced with fear of his own. The Winchesters were standing on either side of the table upon which Hannah lay. Sam had dropped his coat over her mostly nude body. Dean glanced at Castiel, "I'm going to bring the impala around," he said before hurrying out of the building.

"Hannah…" Castiel was at her side in seconds, taking in the sight for himself. She was a mess. She shook and trembled; her body was a sea of wounds, too many to count. Bone protruded from her leg, and her arm was twisted unnaturally. She looked pale and sickly, she gazed up at him, eyes wide with fear and agony.

"Castiel…" Hannah coughed, her voice shaking with her body. Castiel's mind turned to what he had seen when he'd first entered the room. That vile, sick man on top of Hannah. He remembered what the medical examiner had said about the other victims. It drove to a new level of fury as he considered what might have been done to Hannah. He bent forward, peering into her eyes, cupping her face in both of his hands.

"Hannah," he murmured. "Did he... " he didn't need to continue. She knew what he was asked. She broke into sobs but shook her head.

"He was going to," she whimpered through the sobs. "He violated Heather; he made me watch. And then he killed her."

"Heather?" Castiel wondered, then glanced over his shoulder to the other table were the body of a woman lay, blood glistening on her body.

"Hey Cas," Sam moved over to them now, but hesitated when Hannah cast him a look of apprehension. "We need to get out of here. I called the police about these bodies; we'll want to be long gone by then. We can have someone tow your car to Kansas, but we need to leave town now."

Castiel nodded and turned his attention to Hannah. He placed a hand on her forehead, attempting to heal, but frowned. "Something is preventing me from healing her," he announced, puzzled by the realization.

"We'll take her to a hospital," Sam assured him. "One a little farther away."

Castiel draped his coat over the coat Sam had already supplied Hannah and carefully lifted her into his arms. Although he did his best to avoid her more serious wounds and broken bones, he couldn't avoid everything, and she cried out in pain as her weight shifted into his arms. She trembled, burying her face into the crook of his neck, sobbing softly.

And with that, Castiel hurried after Sam, crawling into the back of the impala with Hannah as Dean sped quickly away from the scene of such horrendous torture.


	6. Chapter 6

Castiel was unprepared for the sight he saw when he was finally allowed into the hospital room where Hannah had been admitted. As he approached her bed, taking in the sight before him, he felt sick. She looked so frail, laying there hooked up to all of these human devices. Her left arm and leg were both in casts; an ivy was attached to her arm, she wore a thin hospital gown.

Castiel came to stand over her bedside, looking her up and down. He could hardly believe he was looking at an angel, at a once brave and valiant warrior, now turned into this fragile, broken, whisper of a being.

"Hannah…" he whispered into the space between them as he leaned over the bed and gazed into her bruised, pale face. There was no response. She was unconscious and she gave no indication that she'd heard him. "This should not have happened," he murmured, voice heavy with uncharacteristic emotion. "I shouldn't have let this happen."

She was so still. So pale. Castiel had never felt so helpless in his life. All the powers at his fingertips and he couldn't do anything to save her. He still wasn't sure why. He'd noted the blood on her angel blade and suspected it to be the main reason. It still didn't ease his feelings. To have walked in on what that man had done, what he had tried to do, to have to be forced to rely on crude human technology to save a graceless angel whom he should never have allowed to get hurt in the first place. He was the reason she was so vulnerable; he should never have let her out of his sight.

"Mr. Riken?" Castiel turned around at the sound of the alias Dean had given him when they got to the hospital. The doctor entered a wire haired man with a grim look on his face.

"Yes?" Castiel waited for the man to approach Hannah's bedside. "How is she?"

"It's not good," the doctor replied. "Your wife sustained multiple lacerations all over her body. Some of them were deep and showed signs of infection. She was exposed to the elements for an extended period, and we are treating her for hypothermia. Her blood pressure is dangerously low."

Castiel took that news and glanced at the sleeping angel. He flinched slightly at the mention of her being his wife. This was a cover-up that Dean had insisted on, saying the doctors wouldn't have allowed Castiel to see her otherwise. And Dean had been correct; the doctors hadn't let the Winchesters to come into the ICU where she was being held, so Castiel was here alone.

"There is something else we found in her blood," the doctor continued. "Traces of chlorine. We think she ingested bleach or something similar."

Castiel winced. That explained why he couldn't heal her. Certain elements nullified an angel's powers, and chlorine was one of them. There was no way Hannah's tormentor could have known that,

"What are her chances?" Castiel dared to hope, but when he looked at the doctor's face, he found a grim, somewhat suspicious look.

"If her body responds well to the antibiotics and the treatments, I'd say her chances are good," the doctor said. "But these injuries are extensive; we don't even know how she is still alive…"

The doctor trailed off, fixing Castiel with a suspicious look that confused him. "I'm sensing... suspicion."

"Mr. Riken, these injuries were done intentionally," the doctor said. "And the bleach poisoning is very disconcerting. When you brought her in, you said she'd been in some kind of accident at work, but it's not adding up."

Castiel squinted quizzically. "I don't understand what you are implying," he said. He wished Dean was here to interpret this situation for him. His years on Earth hadn't taught him everything there was to know about human society and fooling people in authority was still a skill he hadn't quite mastered. "You are not suggesting that I intentionally hurt her, are you?"

"I'm only going on what I know," the doctor said. "I take a dim view of spousal abuse, and I should warn you that your interactions with your wife will be closely monitored while you are at this hospital. And when she wakes up, I'd like a social worker to speak to her without you present."

Castiel felt his cheeks flush with anger. The doctor turned and strode out of the room before he had time to react. Castiel was alone with Hannah again.

The distraught angel pulled a chair up to Hannah's bedside and sat down, staring blankly into her pallid face, willing her to wake. "They think I'm the one who did this," he said softly, not knowing whether she could hear him or not. "They aren't wrong. I contributed. I'm just as much to blame for this. I took this," he pressed his hand against his own chest, indicating his grace, "from you. Left you helpless. And if you don't pull through this, Hannah… I don't… I can't…" he couldn't allow himself to contemplate the prospect of Hannah not surviving. Somehow, some way, he was going to see her through this.

He was so distraught that he didn't see her hand twitch every so slightly. And he almost missed it when her fingers brushed up against his arm. The sudden touch made him flinch though, and he was suddenly alert, getting to his feet, peering into her face hopefully. Nothing. Maybe it was just his imagination.

But there- her eyes fluttered, slightly at first, then opened. Those large blue eyes blinked, sought out anything familiar, then landed on him.

"Hannah," he murmured, breath hitched in his throat. He waited with baited breath.

"Castiel…" her voice was barely a whisper. "Where…" she coughed, her voice was raspy, hoarse. She swallowed, taking in a breath.

"You are in a hospital," Castiel explained. "Try not to move; you are safe."

Hannah gazed around, eyes falling on her own broken body, she took in a breath in surprise. She squirmed, reaching for the ivy, "what are these things?" she demanded in alarm. He reached over and grabbed her hand before she could remove them.

"They are there to help you recover," he explained, though he kept his grip on her hand, needing the tactile touch, the warmth in her skin. "You can't remove them."

She winced as she tried to move, jolting her casted arm the wrong way. "I have to get away," she gasped. "Please, Castiel, get me out of here." Her voice quivered with fear as a tear slipped down the side of her face, as she pleaded with him, begged him.

"I can't," he said, feeling as though he was breaking into a million pieces. "I can't heal you. What he did to you-"

She gasped at the mention of the man, of the memories and he stopped. "He's not going to hurt you anymore," he promised. He squeezed her hand and brushed her chin to get her to focus on him. What he saw in those blue eyes nearly broke him. Pain, fear, vulnerability… without thinking, he leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead, pressing his lips to her skin, closing his eyes, breathing in the emotion. "Shh," he murmured into her skin, wanting to give her what comfort he could.

Hannah broke into soft sobs, all the pain she'd suffered coming out right there. Castiel stayed close, soothing her hair, brushing the tears from her face, whispering reassurances to her. He hadn't even stopped to realize that real emotion was passing between them. A closeness, a need for one another's touch. In his haste to save her, to make sure she was alright, he hadn't even considered that he might have developed real feelings for her, he couldn't even pinpoint the moment it had actually happened. When he had crossed that line. But he had. Somehow, he had, and he realized that a graceless angel who depended on him at the moment to keep her safe had somehow taken over his heart and that he needed her just as much.


	7. Chapter 7

It was sometime near dawn and Hannah had gone back to sleep some time ago. Castiel sat by her side, diligently watching over her as she slept. She'd had a rough night, all the fear and anguish she had endured came out in droves. All Castiel could do was be there for her, comfort her, and reassure her.

He almost didn't hear the door creak open, but he was immediately at attention when he saw Dean slip quietly into the room.

"Dean," Castiel whispered, careful not to wake Hannah up as he watched Dean crept slowly over to him. "I thought you were not permitted over here."

"We aren't," Dean confirmed. "Hey, I know this is sudden, but you gotta get her out of here. Sam's waiting outside with the impala."

"What?" Castiel frowned. "The doctor said she wasn't well enough to be moved."

"I know," Dean said, looking apologetically. "Look… the doctors are talking to the police. They think you did this to her and they are talking about arresting you and taking her to some women's shelter."

"They can't!" Castiel exclaimed defensively, angry at the audacity. "She's frightened as it is, I don't think we should be separated. She doesn't trust humans."

"Yeah I know which is why we have to go," Dean said, urgency in his voice. "Look, Sam and I raided the pharmacy; we managed to swipe some medical supplies and equipment, I hope it will be enough to treat her back at the bunker. At least until you can heal her, right?"

Castiel nodded hesitantly. He wasn't sure he could heal her or if she could heal herself, but the idea of being separated from her now, after just getting her back was unpalatable. Quickly, he stood up and leaned over her, carefully pulling the various needles from her arms. She jerked a little in her sleep.

Dean moved to watch the door while Castiel slid his arms under Hannah and, as gently as he could, lifted her into his arms, carefully trying to avoid her casted arm and leg. She gasped, her eyes fluttering open.

"Shh," he hushed softly as she started to struggle, disoriented. "It's okay, Hannah, you're safe."

Hannah wasn't so sure, and in her dazed confusion, Castiel wasn't sure she knew what was happening or who he even was. But to her credit, she didn't struggle, only braced her head against his shoulder as he carried her to the door.

"This way," Dean led them through the hallway. Hannah felt light and fragile in Castiel's arms as he cradled her against his own body. Her head lulled back and forth as he trailed after Dean.

Somehow, they made it outside where Sam was waiting in the impala. Castiel crawled into the backseat with Hannah while Dean jumped into the passenger seat, and not a moment too soon because just as they slammed the car doors, the doctor, the one Castiel recognized as the physician who had been treating Hannah, burst out of the doors after them and started shouting.

"Hey!" he exclaimed. "Come back here! I'm calling the cops!"

Sam sped away, tearing out of the hospital at top speeds.

0000

It was a precarious journey back to the bunker, but somehow, they made it. Castiel carried Hannah to the room he stayed in when he visited the bunker. He laid her down in the bed, covering her in blankets. Pulling a chair up to her bedside, he resumed his vigil over her.

"Where am I?" she mumbled, slurring her words together as she blinked heavily. "Don't… please…" Castiel's heart sunk as he listened to Hannah begging incoherently. She remained, somewhere between consciousness and delirium, her head listing back and forth, her body too weak to squirm. When he reached to touch her hand, to try to bring her out of it, back to reality, he was alarmed by the heat he felt there.

"Dean!" he exclaimed in alarm. "Sam!" panic surged through his mind as he worried that they shouldn't have taken her out of the hospital, that they may have done more harm than good. Castiel had never felt so helpless in all of his life. He should be able to heal her, and if he hadn't taken her grace from her, she wouldn't be in this condition. She wouldn't have let that man hurt her as he did, and she wouldn't be laying here, slipping away before his eyes.

Sam and Dean hurried into the room at the urgency of Castiel's call. "She's feverish," he explained. "I can't seem to wake her."

Sam leaned over the ailing angel woman, putting a hand over her forehead, frowning as he turned to Dean.

"I don't think she has an infection," he said thoughtfully. "We checked her wounds and cleaned them. This is something else."

At that moment, as Sam rested his hand on Hannah's forehead, her eyes suddenly shot open. Her gaze fell on his figure looming over her, and she shot upright in bed, letting out a scream, as she scrambled, in vain, to pull away from him.

"Hannah!" Castiel grabbed her before she could manage her way out of the bed, but she fought him, shoving and swinging her one hand at him, trying desperately to get away.

Sam shrunk away, frowning as he and Dean watched the scene with concern and sympathy. Castiel pulled the flailing angel into his arms and held her against him, holding tightly until her flailing began to die down. The heat of her body burned against him, her energy drained, she suddenly fell limp in his arms. Gently, he lay her back down and watched as her eyes fluttered closed and she gave into unconsciousness.

"Castiel, this is more serious than just a physical illness," Sam began after a few tense moments passed. Castiel glanced across the bed at the Winchesters. "Neither of us are really qualified to handle stuff like this."

"What can we do?" Castiel frowned at the sound of his own voice, low and husky and raw with emotion. He met Dean's eyes, desperately seeking out some kind of assurance from his closest friend. "Dean…"

Dean sighed and came around the bed to pull up a chair beside Castiel. "Cas, we'll help _you_ through this but _her_ we'll do everything we can, but this is far above our pay grade. I-"

"Hold on, Dean," Sam spoke up. "I think I know someone who may help. I'm going to give Charlie a call." With that, he got up and hurried out of the room leaving Castiel and Dean alone with a sleeping Hannah.

The two men sat in silence for a few moments as Castiel watched Hannah with a downtrodden look in his eyes.

"Cas, I've never seen you like this," Dean commented after a time. "You know, with the emotions and all."

Castiel scoffed quietly. Dean was right, he'd never been this distraught, and he'd been through a lot. Losing friends, always walking the line between heaven and humanity and continuously being hurt for his allegiance. But these feeling were different.

"I was angry with her," he said softly, glancing at Dean, meeting his eyes. "For what she did. Giving me her grace. I didn't want it; I swore I'd never hurt another angel that way. But I did. All this time, she'd been bringing up the issue of my failing grace. She was incessant about it, constantly begging me, pleading with me to do something, to face it at all. She even tried to go to Metatron. And I brushed her off every single time. So finally, when I was on my last breath, she cut her own throat and forced me to take it. How could she do that, Dean?"

"Because she wanted to," Dean responded. "Because people do crazy reckless things when they are in love."

"No," Castiel was quick to dismiss that idea. He shook his head. "She can't… why would she? I'm an enemy to heaven. After everything I've done, caused the fall, a fall which she herself was a victim of. How could she even begin to?"

"Cas, no one gives that kind of sacrifice without some kind of motivation," Dean explained. "Look at you, me, and Sam. What we've done for each other. I'd let the whole world burn- got close to doing just that- to save Sam. That's what you do for family. So think about that. Hannah was willing to deal with Metatron for you. And when, finally, she couldn't get you to care about your own life, she sacrificed herself, her grace, just so you'd keep living. That should spell it out right there."

"And look what it's gotten her," Castiel said bitterly. He leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows on the bed, as he watched Hannah sleep. She didn't sleep soundly. Every so often, she'd jerk about in her sleep, whimpering, mumbling, tossing and turning. The complexion of her skin took on a very pale pallor, and the skin around her eyes was dark, making them appear sunken in. The fever which seemed to be burning through her was worrisome.

Castiel started when he felt Dean's hand on his shoulder. He turned his attention to the elder Winchester as he got to his feet. "She'll make it through," Dean said firmly. "Sam and I will figure out how to get help here. A hunter doctor, a shrink, whatever. Charlie might be able to help. Somehow, we'll get her the help she needs."

"Thank you, Dean," Castiel said honestly. He watched Dean leave the room, then turned back to Hannah. He reached out and took her hand in both of his, willing her to get better.

"I've been so blind," he said. "Blind to everything. I'm sorry I ignored your feelings. Just please don't leave me now, Hannah. I need you."


	8. Chapter 8

"No… please…" Hannah saw her torturer violate Heather right in front of her and now it was happening to her. She couldn't stop it. She was an angel, one of heaven's most powerful soldier and she was being reduced to this. She felt sick inside, disgusted with herself. She should be stronger. But she couldn't even prevent this man from touching her, caressing her skin. The feeling of his weight on top of her, his breath on her bare skin, the sheer terror she felt. She couldn't stop her body from shaking, couldn't keep the sobs from breaking forth.

And then there was the pain. Constant and enduring, it gripped every inch of her body. From the many cuts, he'd given her, the feeling of fire dancing across her skin with each knife cut. It seemed that fire was her constant friend, flaring up with each new pain he inflicted on her.

And there were the hours alone. He'd leave her in the dark to stew in her fears and emotions. Strapped to the table, she could feel the bite of the chilly winds on her bare skin, freezing her very soul. The stench of death was all around her. The scratching and scurrying of rodents as they ran back and forth in and out of the barn. And the hunger. The constant hunger and thirst which she had never felt before. She was almost human now, and she had human needs that hadn't been met since she gave away her grace. At first, she couldn't quite pinpoint the sensation, the constant cramping, and gnawing in her stomach as her body craved nourishment. The dryness in her mouth as her body wanted water.

A human being could only survive a few hours without water. Hannah credited the little grace she had left to the reason she had managed to survive. She wondered if the bodies who shared the room with her had succumbed before their torturer could have his end with them.

But wait. She was rescued. Castiel had saved her from that horror. So why did she still feel like her torturer was perched on top of her, crushing her body beneath his, preparing to violate her? She could hardly breathe, her chest felt like a heavyweight. She coughed weakly and her lungs throbbed in protest.

And the cold, why couldn't she stop shivering? Her head was in a fog. As she blinked through the final waves of unconsciousness, her surroundings finally came into focus. She was in a room. She heard voices. Male, a female she didn't recognize, other males. What that Heather? Did Heather somehow survive?

"Tuberculosis," came a grim male voice. "And a host of other complications due to the condition she's in. Dehydration, Malnutrition, hypothermia."

"TB?" came another, familiar voice. Was that Dean Winchester? "How did she get that?"

"The squalor she was held in," the first voice said. "And the drain of her grace left her immune deficient. She's fortunate that's all she's caught. It's a wonder she's still alive."

 _Maybe I'm not alive_ she thought as she willed her foggy mind to clear itself. Perhaps this was the Empty, and she was dreaming in her endless slumber. But if that were the case, why was she being forced to relive… over and over… the touching, the violations, the pain, the anguish…

As the visions threatened to come back, she felt the firm touch on her forehead. It was startling enough to rouse her from her fog and for reality to come careening back. "Don't!" She screamed, "Stop!" her eyes flew open, and she shot up in bed, and the image of the man leaning over her jolted back.

"Get away from me!" she shouted angrily. As she looked around, other images in the room took shape. Some familiar, some not. Her eyes went immediately to Castiel who appeared by her bedside, had he been there all along? She looked at him in confusion. "Castiel?"

"You're safe," his calm voice resonated in her mind as she glanced around at the others. In the far corner of the room, Hannah recognized the Winchester brothers, but she didn't know the young red-haired woman who stood beside them. She looked them all over. She was bothered by how tall Sam was, did she remember him being that tall? He could hurt her if he wanted to. She wouldn't let him near her, she decided. And Dean. She remembered Dean and his violent impulses. He'd hurt her too. But the woman?

And there was another man in the room; this man stood at the foot of her bed wearing a white coat and sifting through some supplies which were laid out across a small cart. Hannah eyes the man wearingly.

"He's here to help you," Castiel's voice brought her attention to him. She turned to him, blinking as she looked him over. He was close. His face near centimeters from hers as she sat up in bed and he leaned over the bed towards her. His brilliant cerulean blue eyes scanned her up and down. She followed her gaze and started at the sight of her own body.

She was dressed in a very thin white hospital gown, her right arm and leg were both encased in some kind of cast, and both hung uselessly off to her side. There were angry red cuts and burns all over her arms, and some were stitched shut. It was as if her own body- Caroline's body, as she remembered her vessel's fears and pain just as well as her own- was being held together by stitches and bandages.

"I don't…" her voice cracked, raw from disuse, and probably, from screaming. She cleared her throat to try again but suddenly erupted into a fit of coughs. The coughs wracked her battered body as her lungs careened against her ribs. She lost strength and started to topple forward, but Castiel was there to guide her carefully back down into her pillow. He reached for something out of her field of vision, and moments later, she felt a cool damp cloth against her forehead.

As she coughed and coughed, she felt Castiel press a cloth to her mouth, just as she spit up what seemed to be in her lungs. The fabric was quickly stained red. Hannah didn't miss the grim, worried look on Castiel's face as her coughing subsided and he wiped her lips with the cloth. She could taste the copper in her mouth, and she swallowed delicately, hesitant to take a breath.

"I don't feel well," she stammered, gazing up at Castiel as he, in turn, stared down at her.

"I know," he said. "You are very ill. And wounded. Do you remember anything? I mean after we found you?"

"How did you find me?" she asked as she heard someone approach the bed. Her eyes darted towards the sound as the red-haired woman moved to the other side of her bed and waited patiently. She heard the door close; someone had left the room.

"We found some of his previous victims," Castiel explained. "And with the help of the local law enforcement, we were able to find the location where he had been hiding out."

Hannah remembered vaguely how the man had planned to rape her, just as he'd done to Heather. How he'd touched her, how he'd straddled her with his body, but she had also remembered how the man had been suddenly and violently forced off of her at the last moment by Castiel's blinding angelic light. She hadn't seen the altercation, but she knew, she _knew_ that the man no longer posed a threat. So why was she still so afraid of him?

"He was going to," she swallowed. "I don't understand, Castiel. How could humans be so cruel? Perhaps its best not to trust any of them."

"I can understand how you might come to that conclusion after what you endured-"

"No Castiel," Hannah corrected, a surge of anger- of hatred- catching in her breath. "I don't think they should be protected. Perhaps our mission, heaven's mission is wrong. If they are capable of such horror… why are we protecting their souls in heaven? We should let the demons have them."

Hannah could hardly believe how sincere she felt about that statement. After what she'd endured, she'd felt her priorities had changed. But she remembered Heather and she felt tears well up in her eyes. "The one who hurt me, he hurt another. I had to watch her suffer. She screamed and begged for me to help her and I couldn't," Hannah choked out a sob. "I couldn't protect her, Castiel, I couldn't save her. If I can't save the helpless ones, why bother trying anymore?"

"Hey," Hannah turned her attention to the woman who had appeared on the other side of her bed. "Hannah, my name is Charlie. I want you to know it's totally okay for you to feel that way right now."

Hannah regarded her for a moment, sniffling back her tears as she met Charlie's eyes. There was something calming, something sincere in her voice.

"Hannah," Castiel brought her attention back to him. "I know you're scared, but I'm not going to let anything happen to you. I need to step out for a moment to get some supplies to help take care of you."

Hannah swallowed hesitantly, fear welling up inside of her at the idea of Castiel leaving her alone again. "Don't…" she begged. "He'll come back."

"No, he won't," Castiel promised. "Can you talk to Charlie for a moment? I'll be back soon."

Hannah didn't want Castiel out of her sight. He was the only one strong enough to defend her against any human that might hurt her again. What if he didn't get back to her in time? What if he was too late this time?

"Hey," Charlie said calmly. "It's just us girls, and I promise I'll kick anyone's asses if they come in here."

"Even the Winchesters?" Hannah asked hopefully. She felt guilty. She knew the Winchesters were Castiel's friends, but how could he trust them after knowing what their kind was capable of?

"Even the Winchesters," Charlie confirmed with a smirk. "I can kick their asses too." Hannah heard Castiel's footsteps fade away and the door open and close and knew that she had been left alone, but she wanted, somehow, to trust Charlie.

"Hey, I know you aren't feeling too hot right now," Charlie said. "You want to know what I like when I'm sick?"

Hannah frowned, shaking her head. Was this a question she was supposed to know the answer to? She coughed a little as she listened.

"I like to be waited on hand and foot. And I like to watch Lord of The Rings in bed." Charlie explained. Hannah felt confused.

"I-I don't understand that cultural reference," Hannah confessed. "How will ruling over jewelry help?"

Charlie chuckled. "Oh you are in for a treat," she said eagerly. "Mind if I set you up and get you all comfortable?"

Hannah had felt an aversion to being touched by anyone, except the occasional comfort from Castiel, but she felt safe with Charlie. She nodded her consent.

Charlie took the cue and went about the elaborate ritual. She propped Hannah up in bed, fluffing her pillows, then she wheeled a TV to the foot of their bed. Then, she took off her shoes and overcoat and climbed right into bed with Hannah, carefully moving Hannah's casted leg and arm to avoid hitting them. She made herself comfortable, armed with a remote control and a cell phone. She glanced at her phone and typed in a few things.

"I'm texting Cas and letting him know a list of things he can bring us," Charlie explained before finishing her text. "He's going to treat you like a queen. Now us queens just need to relax and be tended to by our peasants."

Hannah couldn't help but smile at Charlie's cheerful banter. Without further hesitation, she settled in beside Charlie as the two women lay in bed and turned their attention to the TV.


	9. Chapter 9

When Castiel entered the bunker after spending time in town, he carried some bags and some drinks, as well as two vases full of floral arrangements. He juggled the massive load of items in his arms and barely managed to make his way to the main table. He found Dean, Sam, and the hunter doctor Charlie had brought with her all sitting at the table. The doctor was busy injecting Dean with a syringe.

Dean raised a brow when he saw everything Castiel had been carrying. "Did you by the whole town?" he asked before wincing at the sting of the needle.

"Charlie sent me a list of things to acquire, and I consulted the google for what else to provide Hannah with while she is sick," Castiel explained, handing Sam the fake credit card he'd used. "Why are you being injected?"

"The sickness Hannah has is very contagious," the doctor explained before Dean could answer. "Normally you would all be isolated from her. But since you have an angel here, you should be okay. But I still want to give all of you immunity boosters every few hours as a precaution."

Castiel nodded. Healing a human was far easier for him to do than to heal a fellow angel, which is why Hannah was allowed to be in this condition for so long. He had hoped that the little grace he had left her with would have started to replenish itself by now, but her injuries and trauma had delayed it. He only had to make sure she survived long enough to become an angel again.

"Hey Cas, what is all that stuff?" Sam asked as the doctor injected him. Castiel glanced at all the items laid out before him.

"They are essential items for Hannah's recovery," Castiel responded matter of factly. He started loading all the items onto a cart and went about preparing everything properly. It took him a moment to figure out how to cook chicken noodle soup and make the tea but he managed, and with two steaming hot bowls and two mugs perched on top of the cart and all the other items appropriately arranged around them, he headed for the room.

When he got inside, he found the light dimmed in the room, and two forms huddled together in the bed. Hannah lay with her head resting on Charlie's shoulder as they both focused on the television at the foot of their bed. Hannah's casted arm rested across Charlie's lap, and as Castiel moved closer, he saw Charlie had a marker and had doodled designs all over the cast.

"I like this Arwen," Hannah murmured weakly, coughing as she spoke. "She's strong and brave and graceful. And wise. Like an angel. Like I used to be."

"Like you _are_ " Charlie corrected before she noticed Castiel's presence. "Oh hey, Cas. You're interrupting the fight with the cave troll."

"I apologize," Castiel said as Charlie paused the movie. "The Doctor wishes to see you for you immunity shot, and I brought soup for both of you."

Charlie glanced at Hannah, "be right back," she promised before getting out of the bed and hurrying away, leaving Castiel alone with Hannah. Castiel approached her bed with his cart, and he felt dismayed when he turned on the light and got a better look at her.

The angel didn't have to ask how Hannah was feeling. Even though she managed a small smile and she seemed to be in better spirits than she was when he left, her physical condition left something to be desired. She looked fragile, shriveled; her skin clung to her bones. She was so pale, and her eyes were dark and sunken in. She looked as though she was slowly crumbling away. She struggled in vain to try to sit up but didn't have the strength.

"I brought you soup," Castiel whispered, his voice husky as her condition left him nearly speechless. "And some things. A cherry Slurpee, some honey tea, a pair of pajamas, a bathrobe, some flowers, a thermometer, a cloth for your head, some cough syrup, oh and this," as he named all the items he'd purchased, he pulled each one off the cart and showed her, but when he got to the thing he'd spent the most time and effort on, he pulled it out of the bag. It was a stuffed tiger. Hannah glanced at it curiously.

"Charlie suggested it would bring you comfort to have a stuffed animal," Castiel explained. "And according to the google, animals often represent people. I think the tiger reminds me of you because according to the research I did, tigers represent passion, strength, endurance, and courage."

"I like it," Hannah's voice was barely a whisper, and Castiel had to help position her in bed so that she was sitting up, a pile of pillows helping to prop her up. He put the tiger into her arms then sat on the side of the bed to lean over her. He brushed a hand against her cheek and her forehead, frowning at discovering the fever was still present.

"Have you enjoyed Charlie's company?" Castiel asked as he set the bowl of soup into his own lap, stirring it with a spoon. "Sam and Dean thought she might be a comfort to you."

"She is," Hannah replied, her eyes flickering to the soup. "She is kind."

"Until your grace returns, you must have nourishment," Castiel explained the purpose of the soup. "Surely you have felt the discomfort by now?"

"Yes," she replied, a look of embarrassment grazing her face. "I don't understand these sensations."

"It's hunger," Castiel explained. He realized that with her broken arm, and being so ill, she wasn't going to be able to feed herself, so he scooted closer. "I'll help you."

Hannah winced when she glanced at the bowl and realized she couldn't accomplish this seemingly simple task on her own. The humiliated look on her face when her eyes met Castiel's made him wince in sympathy for her.

"Don't be embarrassed," he tried to reassure her as he brought the spoon to her lips. She hesitated before opening her mouth and letting him feed her. He waited for her to swallow before bringing the spoon to her lips once more.

It was a slow process, and Castiel could tell that Hannah was being forced to endure the feelings of humiliation with each spoonful, but eventually, she finished the bowl and even drank the tea. When they were done, Castiel placed the bowl and the mug back on the cart and watched as Hannah held her stuffed tiger tightly.

When Charlie returned, Castiel allowed them to finish their movie, sitting patiently by the bed and attending to both women's every need. Hannah's condition continued to worsen despite the doctor's efforts. The next day, Charlie spent the entire day with Hannah but as she stepped out to go talk with the Winchesters, and Castiel came in to check on Hannah, his heart suddenly jumped into his throat when he saw the sight before him.

Hannah was coughing and coughing, blood staining her lips, she was too weak to sit up. Castiel hurried to her side and sat her up, but the heat radiating from her skin was worse than before. Her breathing was labored, her eyes rolled back as she moaned softly in between coughs.

"Help…" she begged incoherently. "I can't swim, I'm drowning!" Castiel gasped as she weakly moved her arms as if she were trying to struggle. He realized she was delirious and hallucinating.

"Dean!" Castiel called loudly as Hannah suddenly started seizing violently. Panic gripped him as he held her convulsing body in his arms, willing it to stop.

Everyone burst into the room then, and the doctor hurried over. "Let it pass," he warned rushing to the aid of the convulsing angel, moving her from Castiel's arms and positioning her on her side.

"We need to get this fever down, quickly," the doctor said as he and Castiel corralled Hannah's seizing body, making sure to give her enough space while making sure she didn't fall off the bed. He glanced over at the Winchesters, "Sam, Dean, go start an ice bath. Charlie, we'll need you to help her in."

Charlie nodded, a grief-stricken look on her face as she watched the situation while Sam and Dean hurried to go do as they were told.

When the seizing finally stopped, Hannah fell limp on her back, moaning, her head moving back and forth as her eyes fluttered as she tried, desperately, to cling to consciousness. Castiel was sure he was watching her die before his eyes, and he'd never felt so helpless and so desperate in all of his life.

"Come on let's get her up," the doctor's voice cut through Castiel's despair, and he gathered Hannah into his arms. She felt so frail he was afraid that if he held her too tight, she'd break. Chills wracked her body, and she moaned, muttering indiscernible incoherent murmurs and whimpers.

Castiel's already frayed mental state was tested to its limit after what happened next. It took him, Charlie, and the doctor to get Hannah into the bathtub full of ice water because as soon as they started to remove her gown, she began to shriek and frail around, finding newfound strength wrapped in sheer adrenaline, she fought, screaming and begging.

"Keep going!" the doctor barked at Castiel as her pitiful pleas got to be too much and Castiel tried to back away.

"Please don't!" she screamed as she squirmed. "Don't touch me! Please don't touch me!" Castiel could tell she was relieving another flashback, seeing what her torturer had done, and in her feverish delirium, she'd completely lost the ability to distinguish between reality and what was inside her head.

When it got to be too much, Charlie opted to do help Hannah herself and quickly shooed everyone else out of the bathroom, except for the doctor. Castiel found himself standing outside in the hallway staring at the closed door listening to the screaming and the splashing of water inside. He was so fixated on his emotions as he listened to Hannah's suffering, feeling helpless, and angry at the injustice of it all, he started forcefully when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Whirling, he almost clobbered Dean who was suddenly right in front of him, gripping him on the shoulder.

"Hey, hey!" Dean exclaimed as Sam was suddenly there on his other side and he found himself in between the Winchesters being supported by both of them.

"I…" Castiel stammered. The raw emotions he was feeling were almost physical, and he braced a hand to his torso as if somehow, he could hold them all in. "I feel ill…" He didn't know how else to convey such intensity, and as soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted them. How could he be so focused on his own feelings and sensations when he could hear Hannah screaming and flailing about on the other side of the door?

"Hey, we know," Sam said. "We're here for you."

"You have to stop blaming yourself for this, Cas" Dean implored. "I know it's hard… but sometimes, no matter how hard you try, no matter how hard you fight… it just doesn't always work out in your favor sometimes."

"You're saying she's going to die," Castiel frowned at the sound of his own raspy voice. "Is that what you are implying Dean? That there's no hope and I should just… give up?"

"No man, we're just saying that there's nothing you can do differently," Dean replied. "Maybe… it's time to accept that she may not pull through this and just be there for her you know… when it happens."

Castiel was sure he felt his heart drop into his stomach. He felt nauseous and would have toppled backward if Sam and Dean hadn't been there to catch him and lean him against the wall. He turned his gaze up towards the ceiling, up towards the sky, his thoughts focusing on the endless spaces high above them, as he squeezed his eyes shut and silently begged the powers above, those in charge of life and death- the reapers, Death himself- to prevent this somehow.

"Take me instead, Death..." he begged, not realizing he'd said that out loud.

"Cas…" Castiel opened his eyes, and his deep blue eyes met Dean's green ones and found the elder Winchester wearing a sympathetic expression. "Don't be making deals with Death like that, you know he'd collect."

"If only he would," he responded sincerely. "Dean… I… I've never felt these… sensations before and I don't think I can handle them. I'd rather take her place. I don't think I can live without… her… what's happening to me, Dean?"

"You know most of us mortals would love to take away those feelings if we could," Dean replied. "The feelings of loss, especially when you love, and believe it or not Cas, you love her. How do you think I felt when Jo died? Or when I left Lisa? Or how about when Sam lost Jess? Or our parents? We've lost so many, over and over, and each time it hurts like hell. But there's nothing you can do."

Castiel tried to digest what Dean was saying. "Hannah is an angel," he explained. "This isn't supposed to happen to her. She's supposed to be immortal… I'm not supposed to feel this way. And… I'm the reason-"

"Okay let's not go there again," Dean's voice held a note of discontent. "Get over the guilt, Cas. If you don't, you'll never be able to get past this."

Castiel looked at Dean dead in the eyes. "If she dies… I don't think I _want_ to get past it." He took in a deep breath, just as the doctor emerged from the bathroom. Castiel snapped to attention, eyes widening at the grim look on the doctor's face.

"We got the fever down," he began with a long sigh. "But I don't think it's going to do much good at this point. I'm sorry. I suggest we get her back into bed and make her comfortable."

Castiel felt utterly numb as they brought Hannah's unconscious form out, dressed in the new silk dark purple nightgown that Charlie had instructed Castiel to get for her the other day. Sam moved forward to help carry the angel back to her bed, and Castiel had a vague memory of following him and of sitting down at her bedside once more. If Hannah had been conscious, she would have fought Sam's assistance, but she made no movement at all.

Charlie came over and put a hand on Castiel's shoulder, and as the angel looked up at her, he saw tears streaming down her eyes. "I'm sorry, Cas," she said, breath catching in her throat. As Castiel watched, Charlie burst into tears and hurried into Dean's arms for comfort.

"Hey Cas," Sam said. "We'll… leave you alone." Castiel watched as the three of them staggered out. The angel turned back to Hannah's limp form lying across the bed, just as the doctor was injecting her with something.

"What is that?" Castiel asked with dismay.

"A last round of antibiotics," the doctor explained. "If, somehow, they manage to kill off the bacteria… but I think it's too little too late at this point."

"But you're not sure," Castiel said hopefully. "You are still hopeful." The doctor sighed.

"She won't last the night," he said, a tone of certainty in his voice. "I'm sorry." With that, the doctor turned and left the room.

Castiel leaned forward, leaning his elbows on the bed and peering across Hannah's form. She was barely breathing, the rise and fall of her chest was barely noticeable. She was so pale, and she had a serene look across her face as she slept.

Castiel swallowed hard before his raw emotions propelled him to need to be as close to her as possible. He climbed into the bed with her and pulled her into his arms, laying her head on his chest, holding her tight.

The angels stayed like that for a long time, Castiel holding Hannah tightly to him, feeling the warmth of her body against his, her breathing, getting shallower and shallower, the slow, sluggish beating of her heart.

"Hannah," he said resting his face against the top of her dark-haired head. "You can't… you have to... " Castiel cleared his throat, finding the curious sensation of a lump forming in his throat. He was finding it hard to speak. "I… love… you…" he doubted she could even hear him, but he needed to say it. I'd never in his life uttered those words, and he didn't know many angels who had either, but it felt right to say them now. There was no other way to explain the devastation he was feeling at holding Hannah in his arms, waiting for her heart to finally stop beating.

It was a long night as Castiel listened to each breath, felt each heartbeat against him, scared that it would be the last one. But each time there was a pause when he didn't hear that next breath, when he was sure she was gone forever, somehow, she'd manage one more. And as he held her, Castiel realized that if he lost her that night, he'd lose a piece of himself. And in a way, he had a part of her inside of him- her grace. Perhaps Dean or Sam would say that should be comforting, but it wasn't. He was carrying Hannah's true life's blood, her soul, but he was going to lose her. It made him feel like an empty shell inside.

 **Note** : rough cliffy here! Keep reading!


	10. Chapter 10

He thought he would be prepared for the inevitable, but when it happened, Castiel panicked. He'd stayed with Hannah, held her in his arms, felt her slowly slipping away all night. But somewhere close to dawn, her heart finally stopped, her breath stilled, and Castiel tried to deny it all.

He shook her, calling her name, over and over again. He laid her down on her back, leaning over her on the bed, shaking her shoulders, willing her to wake up.

"No, don't do this to me," he begged desperately as he peered into her pale, ashen face. "Hannah… _Hannah!"_

He knew it was in vain, he knew she was gone, but he couldn't let himself believe it. He refused to accept it. He let himself fall forward, laying his head on her torso, and just zoned out. He felt numb to the world as if he was no longer in his own body. It was if he had just shut himself down, unable to move, to see, to be aware of the world around him, except for the feeling of the soft fabric of her gown, and her body underneath him.

As Castiel lay there, at the very depth of despair, drowning under the sea of grief and sorrow that seemed to be swallowing him up, he almost didn't feel the twitch underneath him. It didn't register in his mind until he felt it again, stronger now.

Puzzled and hoping against all hopes, breath caught in his throat, he lifted himself up to gaze into her face. There was nothing. No movement… except for the slight glow in her skin. Castiel wasn't sure at first until…

Suddenly the familiar blue light of angelic grace erupted from her body, surrounding her in the brilliant illuminance as it started in her torso and quickly engulfed her. And then suddenly, she was sitting up, light shining out of her eyes as she took in a deep breath.

Castiel could hardly believe this miraculous turn of events. As the grace faded, Hannah was sitting there in front of him, completely healed. The color returned to her face as she looked down at herself, then at him.

"Hannah?" he said reluctantly, wondering if he was dreaming, if this was somehow his imagination, or if this was really happening.

Hannah only responded by smiling at him. "Castiel…" she murmured. "My grace it's… recovered."

"Completely?" he stammered, his voice raw. She shook her head.

"No," she said thoughtfully. "Not completely. But enough. I healed myself. I'm an angel again."

"I saw you… die…" he told her, looking away, the painful emotions still raw. "Felt you…"

"It wasn't me," Hannah replied. She glanced down at her casted arm and tried to pull it off. Castiel moved to help her, yanking the casting off of her arm and her leg and watching as she stretched the limbs as if trying them out for the first time. He waited for her attention to return to him.

"During the worst of my fevers I lost control over my vessel," she said. "But I was still locked inside of her. I didn't have the strength to leave her; I was trapped."

Castiel winced as he realized then what had happened. "Caroline…"

"When I could no longer protect her from the illness, she suffered so much. We were both trapped inside her body." Hannah sighed. "I realized she wasn't going to make it, so she gave me her permission to remain and I just… waited. It was…" Hannah looked down, her lip quivering slightly.

Castiel gripped her on the shoulder comfortingly. She winced, glancing at him with tears filling her big eyes.

"I could do nothing to help her," she said, sucking in a tearful breath. "I could just watch her suffer… die… it was so terrible, Castiel… I was in her mind, and she was so frightened…"

Castiel pulled Hannah into his arms, holding her tight as she wept into his shoulder. He held her quivering body and thought of his own vessel, Jimmy. What he had been put through and it made Castiel feel guilty to believe he hadn't treated Jimmy with kindness when he was alive, inside of him. He realized that Hannah and Caroline had formed a bond through their torture and that the angel had bravely endured the worst of it to shield Caroline, but when her strength gave out, she was no longer able to protect the woman whose body she shared.

"It's just me in here now," Hannah sobbed into Castiel's shoulder. "I'm alone."

"At least you were there with her in her final moments," Castiel told her as she sat up, her eyes red and watery. "She didn't have to die alone."

"And you…" Hannah stammered in between breaths. "I heard you… and she did too."

Castiel clenched his jaw a little at that. Hannah had been in there the whole time, trapped by her own human vessel, listening to him beg for her. "Then you heard what I said…" Hannah nodded.

"I didn't think I could enlist such emotions from another angel," she said softly as she brushed the tears out of her eyes. "I'm sorry for the trouble I've caused."

"Trouble?" Castiel squinted at her, flabbergasted. "I'm the one who should be sorry, Hannah. What you did for me… what it cost you. I don't deserve it."

Hannah only responded by moving back into his arms, snaking her arms around him and holding on for dear life. And he squeezed her tightly as if he could convey to her all the emotions by pressing her body against his.

They stayed like that for a while, locked in one another's embrace, Castiel was just happy she was alive. He'd held her, thinking she had died in his arms, and preparing himself for the pain of having to live on without her. As he thought on it all, he couldn't remember when he'd let these feelings become so intense. In all reality, he'd only known her for a year, and it had taken this trauma for him to realize that perhaps the feelings had been there all along, but he had denied them because he didn't know how to face them.

After a long moment, Hannah sat up again and met his eyes with hers. He looked at her with all the seriousness and sincerity he felt. "I'm sorry about before," he said. "About the things I said. And I'm sorry that I ignored your feelings so much that you felt you needed to act… to make me see."

"Your grace is still fading," she said, concern on her face. "What I gave you won't hold out forever."

"It doesn't matter," Castiel explained, holding up a hand before she could try to offer what little she had left. "I won't let this happen again. I can't. I almost lost you; I won't risk that again."

"But you-"

"Hannah," he warned, gazing into her eyes. "You've made me want to live. I know I ignored your concerns before because I wanted to die. I deserved it for everything I've done to those I care about, to Earth, to Heaven… I thought it was a fitting punishment."

"And now?"

"I still don't think I deserve to live," he said honestly. "But I never thought another angel would care enough to do what you did for me. And you've made me realize that I still have something to live for here. If anything, just to explore… this…" he leaned into her and pressed his lips to hers, closing his eyes, savoring the gentle sensations of the kiss.

Castiel broke the kiss and cupped her face in both of his hands, gazing deeply into her eyes. "I love you, Hannah," he said. "I've never felt sensations quite like this. The fear I felt when I realized that man had you, the grief I felt when I thought I lost you, I've never hurt like that before. I know if we continue like this I could risk feeling it again."

"And so could I," she said, frowning at the prospect. "If you die..."

"I can't guarantee I won't," Castiel replied. "If not from this then something else. We're angels, Hannah. Soldiers."

"I know," she nodded. "And the mission comes first, always."

"Yes," Castiel agreed. "But… I can promise you that if you are willing to risk it… this love thing… then so am I. It seems… pleasant. The humans seem to think highly of it."

She answered by kissing him again, deeply, passionately, and lovingly.

After a few tender moments, Hannah broke the kiss and took notice of the room, as if for the first time. Her eyes roamed over all the things Castiel had brought her. On the nightstand was the vase of flowers, which were seemingly still brilliantly blooming. Nearby was the cart upon which were a few empty bowls and mugs, cough syrup, and an empty Slurpee cup. Hannah glanced down at herself and noted the pretty silk nightgown she was wearing.

"You got all of these things for me?" she questioned. He shrugged and nodded.

"Charlie suggested they'd help and I wanted to care for you." He reached behind him and retrieved the stuffed tiger which was wedged in between pillows, and handed it to her. She took it and looked it over.

"I like this the best," she said. "But I don't know if they will allow it in heaven."

Castiel frowned at that. "You want to go back?" Hannah looked away for a moment before turning to him.

"What I experienced… it haunts me," she said. "I'm not sure I want to be among humans forever. But…" she looked conflicted.

"I'd understand if you want to go back," Castiel said, feeling a familiar tightness in his chest as he saw where this might be heading. "Heaven needs you."

"Heaven needs you too," she insisted. She thought about her options then looked at him. "You are stuck here on Earth because you feel an obligation to humans. And I want to be with angels; I want to be home. Is there something in between my life and yours?"

"Perhaps," he said. "I've always walked a line between heaven and Earth, ever since I met the Winchesters. If you can endure being labeled a rebel by your own people, having them hate you, you are welcomed to join me on my tight line."

Hannah smirked. "I want to be where you are," she agreed. "Halfway between heaven and Earth. Working for humans and for angels. Whether they see it or not."

Castiel couldn't believe how happy that made him feel. Knowing she'd stay with him come what may, whatever the humans or the angels had for them. He'd never have to be the lone angel again.

"Come," he said, getting off the bed and offering her his hand. "Charlie and the Winchesters will be happy to see you."

"Charlie has been a comfort," Hannah said as Castiel brought her the thin white bathrobe he'd gotten her. She glanced over at the flowers again. "How have those flowers continued to bloom?"

"Because I healed them," Castiel replied. "I wanted you to be able to look at their beauty when you needed to."

Hannah smiled and took his hand as they walked out the door. When they came into the main hall, they found Sam and Dean sitting at the main table with Charlie, all wearing long faces. Charlie saw them first and gasped causing the Winchesters to whirl around to face them.

"Cas," Dean looked flabbergasted. "What…"

"I'm well," Hannah explained as she looked around at the three dumbfounded faces. "My grace healed me at the last moment. But it couldn't save Caroline."

Charlie rushed over and pulled Hannah into a tight hug. "You scared the shit out of us, girl!" she exclaimed. Hannah cocked her head in confusion at that statement.

"You mean I scared you so much that you-"

"Err, a figure of speech," Charlie quickly corrected herself. "I'm just glad to see you. Hey, that means we can finish our marathon, right?"

Hannah nodded, and Castiel watched the two women interact as Charlie draped an arm around Hannah's shoulders. Charlie paused only to glance at Castiel. "Don't worry Cas; I won't steal your girlfriend."

It was Castiel's turn to cock his head in confusion. "I don't understand," he said, trying to figure out if she was being serious, that she was going to kidnap Hannah, or if this was another one of those human jokes he didn't always understand.

"Hey we're glad you're going to be okay, Hannah," Sam pointed out. "Cas here was a mess without you."

"Yeah it was pathetic, really," Dean teased. "Hey, so how long are you going to be staying at the bunker?"

Castiel and Hannah exchanged glances with one another, then smiled. Hannah turned to Dean, "eternity," she replied simply before Charlie ushered her down the hall, the two women disappearing into one of the bedrooms.

Dean and Sam exchanged confused looks before turning to Castiel for an explanation. "Eternity," the angel repeated before heading for the bunker exit, leaving the Winchesters in his wake. Coming up onto the prairie, he gazed around at the fields around him and took in a deep inhale of breath. Eternity wasn't looking so bad anymore.

The End


End file.
